


Have We Met?

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Florist Shiro (Voltron), Friends to Lovers, Insecure Keith (Voltron), Intrigue, M/M, Minor Allura/Lotor (Voltron), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Not really though, Oblivious Shiro (Voltron), and they all lived happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: Truthfully, Shiro would be lying if he said he never noticed how beautiful Keith is, both inside and out. But Keith has never shown any interest in romance of any kind, so Shiro shelved that idea years ago and hasn’t allowed himself to revisit it since.He’s ready for his own romance now, though. He’s notlonely, per se— he has Keith and their friends, his flowers, and his customers. He’s actually pretty happy. But he’d be happier if he could find someone to come home to at night after a long day of work. He’d be happier with someone he could kiss and hold hands with and— yeah, he misses sex. So the idea of a Valentine’s Day masquerade ball may seem silly, and he’s not exactly expecting to find the love of his life there, but he’s ready to put himself out there and see what may happen.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 179
Collections: Sheithmark 2021





	Have We Met?

**Author's Note:**

> I am very excited to share this piece with you all, especially the absolutely gorgeous art that my collab partner made! Ani, you were a joy to work with, and I feel so lucky to have been paired with you for this event! See the original post [here](https://twitter.com/ani_mani95/status/1358859946432081922?s=20)!

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Shiro asks in a last-ditch effort to get his best friend to join him. “It’ll be fun!”

“Pass,” Keith answers, as expected. He rolls his eyes, but Shiro knows he doesn’t mean any harm by it. Keith has never been the type to get all dressed up for fancy parties. But still…

“You don’t think it’s even a little romantic? The idea of meeting someone and just connecting, no idea what they look like, just the version of themselves they want to portray…?” At Keith’s withering stare, he adds, “Or just the fun of getting to dress up and wear a mask and be whoever you want to be for a night! It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing.”

“It’s a Valentine’s Day ball,” Keith points out. “What’s the point of going if I’m not looking for romance?”

Shiro frowns. “You could just hang out with me,” he tries.

Keith shakes his head. “And take away from your chance at a perfect night of romance? No way.” He’s smirking just a little, barely noticeable with how he’s turned away from Shiro to tend to the floral arrangement in front of him. But Shiro sees it and smacks him with the towel he keeps over his shoulder.

“Don’t pick on me!”

“I’m not picking!” Keith says around a laugh. Shiro doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

Keith rolls his eyes again, fondly this time, and puts the finishing touches on the arrangement. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty,” Shiro says. “I could probably sell it.” He takes a longer look at Keith’s creation. It _is_ pretty, but it’s missing something. Shiro looks around until his eyes fall on the bunches of baby’s breath along the far wall. “Here,” he says, tucking a few stalks into Keith’s arrangement. “Fills it out a little.”

Keith nods. “That does look better. Thanks, Shiro.”

That’s one of Shiro’s favorite things about Keith: he loves to learn, and though he gets frustrated sometimes, he always appreciates the opportunity to improve at whatever he’s doing.

“Well, I should probably get going,” Keith says. “Thanks for letting me hang out here.”

“Please,” Shiro huffs, “I should be paying you for all the work you do around here.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Shiro smiles. “I know, I know.”

That’s another thing Shiro loves about Keith: he’s unfailingly kind and generous— with Shiro, at least.

“See ya, Shiro,” Keith says as he exits out the backdoor of Shiro’s shop. Shiro had closed about an hour ago, but Keith likes to come and help clean up or play around with arrangements when he can. Shiro doesn’t mind the company, especially after hours when he’s stuck doing the boring stuff, and it helps that Keith’s presence is so pleasant and comforting.

“See you,” he says with a wave toward Keith’s retreating back.

Keith turns around as the door is closing behind him to give Shiro one last smile. He always does that. It warms Shiro through every time.

Truthfully, Shiro would be lying if he said he never noticed how beautiful Keith is, both inside and out. But Keith has never shown any interest in romance of any kind, so Shiro shelved that idea years ago and hasn’t allowed himself to revisit it since.

He’s ready for his own romance now, though. He’s not _lonely_ , per se— he has Keith and their friends, his flowers, and his customers. He’s actually pretty happy. But he’d be happier if he could find someone to come home to at night after a long day of work. He’d be happier with someone he could kiss and hold hands with and— yeah, he misses sex. So the idea of a Valentine’s Day masquerade ball may seem silly, and he’s not exactly expecting to find the love of his life there, but he’s ready to put himself out there and see what may happen.

Shiro heads home with a smile on his face, daydreaming of what could be.

____________________

The night of the masquerade ball arrives shrouded in anticipation. Shiro has rented a tuxedo for the occasion and commissioned a mask from Allura, the queen of all things sparkly, to bring the entire ensemble together. It’s a masterpiece: large and feathered around the edges, black everywhere except for the accenting white feathers at the top and the rainbow glitter mixed in with the black glitter covering the entire surface of the mask. It’s elegant, tasteful, and charming, just the way he hopes to present himself tonight. The rest of the outfit is more understated; he’s chosen an all-black tux with a tailcoat and a silver cummerbund, and he’s fashioned his own boutonniere from a white carnation and accenting foliage from his shop.

A last look in the mirror before he goes makes him smile. He’s excited for tonight. He’s ready to meet someone and start the next chapter of his life. But even if it’s a total bust, he’s looking forward to spending some time with his friends— at least, those who will be there. He makes a last-minute adjustment to his unruly bangs (a futile effort) and goes on his way.

Hunk is already there, loitering by the refreshment table, when Shiro arrives. He looks very nice in his gold vest and black dress pants, white shirt sleeves already rolled up to his elbows. His mask is less extravagant than Shiro’s — more the _suggestion_ of a mask, really, since it barely hides his face — and Shiro is grateful for that, since he’s easily able to recognize his friend.

“Hey, man! Looking sharp!” Hunk greets as Shiro joins him by the snacks.

“Thanks, you too.” Shiro smiles as he looks around at everyone dressed to the nines. Everyone looks so beautiful. “Some of these masks are amazing,” he remarks. “I can’t even recognize some of these people.”

Hunk nods, popping a cocktail weenie in his mouth. “Mhm. Probably don’t know some of them. That might explain it.”

Shiro laughs and gives Hunk a weak shove. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Seriously though, your mask is amazing. Did Allura make it?”

“Of course. Who else? There’s no way I could have put this together on my own.”

Hunk nods again, sagely, and points to his own. “Did mine about three hours ago. I let my little cousins help, hence the crazy glitter-glue lines. They had fun, though, so that’s what counts.”

Shiro smiles. “That’s nice. It must be fun having so much family around.”

“It is!” Hunk says. “Though, that also means like, twelve different people asking me if I’ve met anyone yet every time we get together. I keep telling them that cooking and playing with robots are my true loves, but that answer never seems to appease them.” He shrugs and reaches for a puff of some kind. “But hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”

“That you are. I’m glad, too. I have no idea what to do at these things.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow at him, chewing thoughtfully. “Where’s Keith?” he asks after he swallows his bite. “I figured he’d be here with you.”

Shiro huffs a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, these kinds of things aren’t really Keith’s M.O. He’s more of a motorcycle-riding, fence-hopping, sneaking-into-restricted-lots-to-look-at-the-stars kind of guy.” He can’t help but smile at the image.

“Sounds like your kind of guy,” Hunk says. His tone says innocence, but his eyes say mischief and meddling.

“Hunk,” Shiro warns. Hunk raises his hands in surrender and backs off.

“Not saying anything.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, hey— Allura and Lotor.”

Shiro turns in time to see the power couple make their iconic entrance.

As expected, they’re both _stunning_.

Allura’s dress is fit for a princess, all sequins and tulle in delicate shades of blue and pink, form-fitting down to her knees where it flares out dramatically. Her mask matches perfectly. Lotor is the picture of debonair on her arm. He’s in a white tux and white shoes with a lavender vest and bowtie that would probably look ridiculous on anyone else. Lotor, however, pulls it off flawlessly. His white sequined mask is attached to a poll — probably so as not to ruin his hair — and has a dramatic tuft of purple and white feathers exploding out of one side. They’re definitely going to be the stars of the ball, tonight.

Shiro is so busy admiring his friends, he almost misses a mysterious stranger sneak in behind them.

 _Almost_.

He only gets a brief glimpse, but it’s enough to pique Shiro’s curiosity. His black suit jacket fits his lean frame like a glove, and the satin stripes down the sides of his tapered pants accentuate his insanely long legs. They stop just above the ankles, showing off the ostentatious red socks that disappear into shiny patent leather shoes, which is the last thing Shiro sees before the man steps behind another couple and disappears from view.

“Shiro! You look absolutely dashing!”

Shiro is pulled back into his immediate surroundings by the sound of Allura’s voice.

“Oh, it’s all thanks to you,” he says. “This mask is incredible.”

Allura waves away his comment. “Oh, please. It’s you who wears the mask, not the other way around.”

“Of course, you’re both showstoppers tonight,” Shiro says to them both. “As always.”

Lotor’s signature lazy smirk makes its first appearance of the night. “Naturally. Thank you for noticing.”

“You look very handsome as well, Hunk,” Allura says. “Save a dance for me?”

Hunk’s cheeks darken just the slightest bit. “Of course. Any time.”

Allura smiles and glances around the room. “I believe Romelle is here somewhere. You should find her, if you can. I’m sure she’d love a dance as well.” She shoots Hunk a wink and then turns back to her boyfriend. “Shall we?”

“After you, Princess.”

Lotor nods at Hunk and Shiro and turns to follow Allura, who waves and leads Lotor out onto the dance floor. In typical fashion, they’re the first ones on the floor, setting the trend for several couples to join in after.

When Shiro looks back at Hunk, his blush has grown significantly. “You doing okay over there?”

In what seems like a move to find something to do with his hands, Hunk fills a cup with punch and hands it to Shiro, then fills another for himself. He nods, then, and says, “Just not really used to so many pretty girls wanting my attention.”

“Aw, Hunk,” Shiro says. “You’re awesome. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, I know, I guess. I’m just… not used to it. It’s nice, though. Feeling desirable.”

“You _are_ desirable.”

Hunk smiles a genuine smile and sips at his punch, then grimaces. “Yikes. Looks like someone’s already spiked it. Oh well.”

Shiro laughs. “Just like senior prom.” He takes a sip of the punch and nearly coughs it back up. “ _Wow_.”

“Yep.”

They watch the couples dance together, and after a few minutes, Hunk asks, “Who are you looking for?”

Shiro stops short, not even having realized he’d been searching the room for the mystery man.

“Oh. No one,” he says. “Just looking around.”

“Go out and mingle! I’ll be around.”

Shiro hesitates. Whether it’s because he’d feel guilty leaving his friend alone, or because he’s not sure how he would even _begin_ to go out and mingle in a room full of people whose faces he can’t see, he’s not sure. Probably some combination of the two.

“Seriously Shiro, go make a lap or two. I’ll see if I can find Romelle. It’s shouldn’t be, uh, _too_ hard.”

“Alright,” Shiro relents. “I’ll see you later.”

He moves around the edge of the party, not really sure what he’s searching for. He gets pulled into a few different conversations, but none that stick after a few minutes. On his second pass, a man he definitely doesn’t recognize holds out a hand to him.

“Care for a dance?” he asks. His voice is pleasant, and his smile is kind, so Shiro accepts his hand and takes the floor.

The man is nice enough. He makes jokes about his own bad dancing (he’s not _that_ bad, and Shiro certainly has no room to judge) and asks Shiro questions about himself, his family, and his aspirations. The conversation is pleasant; the dance is, too. He’s a tad shorter than Shiro, but he has an athletic build and pretty eyes, from what Shiro can see with the mask obscuring most of the man’s face. Superficially, Shiro could see himself being attracted to this man.

Except, well, as pleasant as he is, there’s no spark.

He allows the man another dance, because it’s Valentine’s Day and it feels nice, but when the man asks for a third, Shiro politely excuses himself and heads back toward the refreshment table.

He pulls up short when he sees who’s standing there— it’s _him_ , the mysterious man from before, standing at the snack table, picking apart some kind of puffed pastry.

Now that Shiro has a better view of him, the man is nothing short of breathtaking. His long, black hair is pushed back away from his face, curling up where it hits his shoulders. Beneath his perfectly-fitted coat, he’s wearing a red waistcoat with a red cravat— a bold and interesting choice, much like the red camellia affixed to his lapel. Shiro approves of both the flower and the neckwear. Men rarely wear nice cravats nowadays; it’s definitely a look that should come back. And though Shiro doesn’t sell camellias in his shop, they’ve always been his favorite flower.

Most notable, however, is the man’s mask. It covers most of his face, including his nose, so that only his mouth is visible. It’s covered in red sequins, framed in black, with an impressive shock of red feathers on one side, extending high above his head and low enough to cover his cheek.

When the man lifts his gaze and makes eye contact with Shiro, it feels like the floor has dropped out from under him. There’s something strangely familiar about his eyes, though Shiro is certain he’s never met this person before. Surely he would remember being in the presence of someone so… _radiant_.

It feels important, suddenly. It feels like _this_ is the reason he wanted to come to this thing so badly. He came with low expectations but astronomically high hopes, and now, with the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing in front of him, the idea of _what could be_ seems so much more concrete.

His feet are carrying him closer before he can consciously make the decision to walk. The man watches him approach.

“Hi,” Shiro says, holding out his hand. “I’m not sure we’ve met.”

The man smiles a crooked smile, very charming, and shakes his head. He takes Shiro’s hand and nods toward the dance floor.

Shiro feels his cheeks heat and is glad they’re at least partially covered by his mask. He nods, following the man onto the dance floor. The man pulls him close as the music swells, and then they’re off. Shiro is quite literally swept off his feet as the man leads him around the dance floor in a twirling waltz that takes his breath away.

It’s nothing like his dance with the first man. That dance was fine. Perfunctory, really. A way to get to know someone in this type of setting, though he’s already forgotten whatever conversation they had.

 _This_ dance is enchanting. It’s lively and exhilarating and makes Shiro’s cheeks ache with the force of his smile. The man leads like a professional, and Shiro is helpless to do anything but be taken for a ride.

He’s panting when the song ends, not from the exertion but from the heart-pumping excitement of it all. The man smiles widely at him and turns to go, but Shiro reels him back in by their still-joined hands. “Another?” he asks. At the man’s hesitation, he adds, “Please?” The man smiles again and nods.

Before Shiro knows it, he’s danced the whole night away with the mysterious man without ever hearing his voice.

The band announces the last dance. The song is slow. Shiro’s hand at the small of his partner’s back flexes, itching to pull him closer so they’re pressed together, chest-to-chest. The man must feel it and read his intentions, because he takes a deliberate step closer. The hand resting on Shiro’s shoulder slides higher until it’s flirting with his neckline. It’s not the first slow dance of the evening, but it’s certainly the most intimate.

It feels like he should say something, but he’s not sure what. He’s never felt a connection like this before, even without conversation or so much as learning the man’s name.

The song crescendos, and Shiro knows his time with the man is coming to an end. The man must feel it, too. He looks up into Shiro’s eyes and presses just the slightest bit closer. It’s a clear invitation. Shiro gazes down at the man in his arms. He’s still just as gorgeous and mystifying as he was when he walked into the room— maybe more.

Shiro barely hesitates before he leans down to take the man’s lips in a kiss that Shiro will remember for the rest of his life. It starts off gentle and builds in intensity, until it ends far too soon for Shiro’s liking. The man’s eyes widen as they pull apart. They’re soft, full of emotion, and as he begins to step away, Shiro wishes desperately that he’d tried harder to make conversation.

“Wait,” he calls, reaching for the man as he steps out of reach. “Your name!”

The man holds a finger to his lips and shakes his head. With a final smile and wave, he turns and disappears into the crowd once more.

Shiro stands there, dumbfounded and staring in the direction of the enigmatic man, until someone claps him on the shoulder and he’s forced back to reality.

“Looking for someone?” Lotor asks, though his tone and knowing smirk suggest he already knows the answer. “Who’s your new friend?”

Shiro smiles sheepishly. “Actually, I uh… didn’t get his name.”

One perfectly manicured eyebrow rises. “No?”

“No,” Shiro sighs. “But maybe I’ll see him around. It’s a small town. We’re sure to run into each other again, right?”

“Mm. Perhaps.”

Allura arrives with a grin almost as wicked as Lotor’s. “Hello again, Shiro. Have a nice evening?”

Shiro flushes up to his ears. “So I guess you all saw, huh?”

“Oh, hon. _Everyone_ saw. You’re the talk of the ball. And you were both excellent advertisement for my business.”

“Oh?” Shiro brightens. “You made his mask, too? So you must know who he is!”

Allura exchanges a concerned look with Lotor and shakes her head. “It was an anonymous commission. You don’t know?”

Shiro just shakes his head. He’s such an idiot.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” he offers. “You know, mystery, intrigue— it was romantic.”

Allura and Lotor don’t say anything, just shake their heads at him like he’s the world’s biggest moron. Which, okay, yeah. Maybe he is.

“I’ll find him,” Shiro says. “ _Someone_ has to know who he is.”

After a bit more chitchat, he says goodbye to his friends and heads home.

That night, his dreams are painted in red.

____________________

“So? How was it?”

They’re at the local greasy spoon the next morning, inhaling as much breakfast food as is physically possible for two men in their 20s.

“Amazing,” Shiro says around a bite of stuffed French toast.

Keith smiles at him across the table. “That’s great, Shiro.”

Shiro forces himself to swallow his bite and takes a sip of coffee to wash it down. “I met the most amazing guy,” he says. Keith’s face does something unreadable for a brief second, but relaxes before Shiro can figure out what it is. Keith raises an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah? You get his number?”

“Actually, no,” Shiro says, bracing himself for the inevitable conversation about how dumb he is. “We didn’t talk much at all, really. I don’t even know his name.”

This time, both of Keith’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Then how do you know he’s so amazing?”

Shiro shrugs. “It’s hard to explain, but… We danced _all_ night, and it just felt so right. It’s just a feeling I got, you know? It was exciting and romantic and everything I was hoping for.”

“Wow,” Keith says quietly, almost under his breath. “Sounds amazing.”

“It was.”

“And… you have no idea who he is?”

Shiro shakes his head. “I wish I’d tried harder to ask. I didn’t even get to see his face.”

Keith lets out a laugh that sounds a little strangled. “Maybe he’s like, really ugly.”

Shiro scoffs. “Impossible. He’s beautiful.” Inexplicably, Keith’s cheeks begin to color. “What’s up?” Shiro asks.

“Uh, nothing.” Keith clears his throat. “I’ve just never heard you talk about someone like that before.

It’s Shiro’s turn to blush. “Ah. Yeah. I guess I do sound a little moony.”

“It’s nice,” Keith says. “You seem happy. I’m glad you had a good night.”

“The best,” Shiro confirms. “Now I just have to find him again.”

Keith, halfway through swallowing a bite of hash browns, begins choking and coughing.

“Keith!” Shiro moves to the other side of the table and pats Keith’s back to help dislodge the piece of food. When Keith is able to swallow, Shiro helps him drink some water to wash everything down. Keith alternates between panting and taking sips of water, and once Shiro is sure he’s okay, he goes back to his own side of the table. “You okay?”

“Wrong pipe,” Keith wheezes. He takes another sip and sets the glass down. “You’re gonna try to find this guy?” There’s a note of incredulity in his voice that Shiro doesn’t really understand.

“Of course,” he answers. That’s obvious, isn’t it? “Keith, trust me. If you saw him, you’d understand. We just had this connection. I haven’t felt that way since—” He cuts himself off. He’d been ready to say _since I first met you_ , but Keith doesn’t know that Shiro once had a crush on him, and Shiro plans to take that secret to his grave. “Well, in a while,” he corrects. “I _have_ to find him. You’ll help me, won’t you?” Shiro gives Keith his best puppy eyes. It’s a mean trick, because Keith always falls for it, but he’s going to need all the help he can get.

“Oh, I don’t know—”

“ _Please_ , Keith?”

Keith’s brow furrows like it does when he’s trying to work out a problem. “Shiro, you don’t even know what he looks like. How are you supposed to find him without a name or even a face? Think about it.”

“I _am_ thinking about it. I’m thinking about how easily he led me around the dance floor for hours, and how even though we didn’t talk, he was still the most interesting person at the party.”

Keith swallows. “Shiro…”

He’s close to giving in. Shiro can always tell. “Please. This is my shot at something real, Keith. If I do everything I can and still can’t find him, fine. But I at least have to try.”

Keith takes a long, deep breath and blows it out roughly. “Fine. I’ll help. But don’t get your hopes up too high,” he warns as Shiro breaks into a grin. “It’s a long shot.”

“I know,” Shiro says, feeling excited again. “But if there’s any chance at all that I can find him, I want to try. He’s worth it. I just know it.”

The rest of breakfast is spent in pensive quiet. Shiro makes a mental catalogue of everything he knows about the man: black hair, slim build, about half a head shorter than Shiro, soulful eyes, sharp smile. It’s not much to go on — Shiro doesn’t even know the sound of his voice — but it’s a start.

____________________

Every man who comes into the shop is under intense scrutiny. Shiro has every detail of the mysterious man seared into his brain. He’s _sure_ he’ll know the guy when he sees him— it’s just a matter of being in the right place at the right time.

Maybe he’s being a little silly and a little too hopeful, waiting for some guy he danced with whose name or voice he doesn’t even know to show up at his place of business, buy him a flower as a cute gesture, and sweep him off his feet again, but— well, Shiro has always been a romantic.

So far, he hasn’t had any luck at all. He sees several repeat customers and several new ones, most buying overly-large bouquets for their sweethearts, but none of them are the right one. Worriedly, he wonders if the man even knows where he works. Had it come up at all? Probably not, he realizes with a sinking heart. The downside of having a magical night of dancing with basically no conversation is that not only does Shiro know nothing of the guy or how to find him, the guy knows nothing about Shiro, either.

About an hour before close, the bell above the door jingles, and Shiro’s heart leaps out of his chest when he peeks at the door from around the balloon bouquet he’s assembling and sees a familiar silhouette. The visitor has his head turned, so Shiro still can’t see his face, but he waits with bated breath to finally see the man who’s taken up permanent residence in his mind.

It’s like slow motion to watch as he turns, that gorgeous black hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail that bobs as he walks, until he’s facing Shiro at last, and—

It’s Keith.

And Keith is breathtaking, as always, but he’s not _him_.

“Hey, Shiro. Why the long face?” Keith asks, walking over with Shiro’s favorite coffee, which Shiro had somehow failed to notice until now.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” He feels guilty for feeling disappointed at seeing Keith, and a little embarrassed about confusing him for the guy he’s pining over. “I just thought…”

One dark eyebrow rises in question, but his face quickly falls. “Oh.”

The guilt eats at Shiro. He _never_ wants Keith to look like that.

“But I’m really happy to see you!”

The look Keith gives him is unimpressed. “Well, look, I just came by to drop off your coffee. I can’t stay today.”

Something inside Shiro twists. “Wait, you don’t really have to leave, do you?” He knows he sounds like he’s begging, but the thought of hurting Keith, accidentally or otherwise, is unbearable. “You can stay and watch me suck at curling ribbons. I won’t even make you help!”

Keith’s posture softens a little, along with his features, even though he still doesn’t look convinced. “I like helping you.” He’s so sweet sometimes, and he doesn’t even know it. If only…

No. It’s one thing to be silently appreciative of Keith’s looks. It’s a whole different thing to start projecting his romantic fantasies onto him.

“Stay?” Shiro reaches out a hand to keep Keith close. The contact is grounding, especially when he’s feeling a little off-kilter, the way he has since the ball.

Keith heaves a heavy sigh but relents anyway. With a playfully put-out pout, he grumbles, “You know I can never say no to you.”

They pass the rest of the afternoon trading jokes and smiles over coffee and ribbons, and if Keith notices the way Shiro’s gaze still falls to the door until it’s time to close, he doesn’t say anything.

____________________

Keith can do absolutely anything he sets his mind to. Shiro has always known this about him. It’s one of the first things he ever learned about Keith, when Keith was young and brash and dead-set on drinking anyone who challenged him under the table, and _succeeded_.

Which is why it is _so incredibly frustrating_ that he seems completely incapable of helping Shiro figure out who this guy is.

Rationally, Shiro knows that Keith has no way of knowing who his mystery man is. Keith hadn’t even been there to see what little Shiro saw of the guy, so how could he possibly help? But somewhere deep inside himself, Shiro _knows_ that Keith can accomplish anything, even something as seemingly impossible as this. Maybe that’s not fair to Keith — Shiro can acknowledge that, at least — but he can’t help it. Keith has never let him down before.

Shiro has been doing everything he can think of to locate this guy. He’s gone to every speed dating event, community-sponsored wine and cheese tasting, and board game night he can find. He’s even dragged Keith along to a few of them, but he’s never spotted anyone else who even remotely resembles the man in Shiro’s memory. He’s growing increasingly frustrated with the search; does this guy not want to be found?

It’s not until almost three weeks later, when Shiro and Keith join the Holts for dinner, that Shiro gets his first solid lead.

He tries not to be That Guy, the one who talks incessantly about a crush, but it’s impossible to hold it in when he’s in Colleen’s garden and sees the most beautiful camellia bush. He feels himself gasp before he can think to control his reaction. Keith notices first and gives him a curious look, which Shiro pretends not to notice. He can’t stop himself, though, from inching up to the bush and getting a closer look at the brilliant red blooms. They make him miss home in the worst way, but the nostalgia is warm and comforting all the same.

“Oh, aren’t those beautiful?” Colleen says over Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro makes a noise of agreement and reaches out to touch a flower before thinking better of it and pulling his hand back. “My grandmother had them in her garden when I was a kid.”

He feels Keith’s presence beside him before he makes himself known. “Your favorites, right?” Shiro nods.

“I can’t believe you remember.”

“Of course I do,” Keith murmurs. “I always remember what you tell me.”

Shiro feels his cheeks heat and forces the reaction down. Keith has always been like this with him. It doesn’t mean anything. He decides to change the subject, saying, “The man I danced with wore one of these.”

“Really?” Colleen asks, surprise coloring her tone. “As far as I know, I’m the only person in town who grows them.”

Shiro glances over at Keith to see if he has any input, but worries when he sees that the color has drained from Keith’s face. “Keith? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says.

Shiro isn’t convinced, but whatever is bothering Keith, he’ll probably tell Shiro eventually. Shiro turns his attention back to Colleen, who seems to be pondering something.

“Did you sell one to somebody recently?”

Colleen shakes her head. “I haven’t sold any of these in a while. Maybe your mystery man is from out of town.”

The thought totally deflates him. If the man isn’t even from here, Shiro may never find him unless he happens to know the person who invited him. And that seems like a _really_ long shot.

He’s about to let himself give up — it’s been weeks, and he’s no closer than he was the night he met him — when Pidge wanders near and catches sight of what they’re all looking at.

“Oh, by the way, thanks for those cuttings,” she says. “They’re growing pretty well. I think the synthetic soil may actually work, but I’ll have to run some more trials to be sure.”

“Yeah? I’ll have to give you some more difficult plants to test.”

“Yes please! I need as many test subjects as possible.”

Colleen chuckles and pats her daughter on the head. “Sure thing.” Pidge scrunches up her nose — a habit she hasn’t grown out of in all the years Shiro has known her, even now that she’s an adult — and ducks away from the affectionate gesture. All the while, Shiro watches with interest.

“Pidge,” he calls before she can slink back to her lair, “what are you doing with the flowers?”

“I’m trying to find a solution for people in areas with poor soil who need to grow things. The synthetic soil should be able to grow almost any small-to-medium plant and includes fertilizer. And the plan is to make it reusable. Plants need the nutrients from the soil to grow, so my synthetic soil should be able to continuously produce those nutrients.”

“Wait, why haven’t I heard about this? You know I own a flower shop.”

“It’s not done yet,” Pidge says in her best _I thought that was obvious_ voice. “I’ll cut you in for some of the product when I’m sure it’s good.”

Keith snickers at the phrasing, and it’s a near thing for Shiro, too, except that he’s too distracted by Keith’s smile to remember why he’s laughing.

“I think I lost one, though,” Pidge remarks absently on her way out, for real this time. “So I’ll have to keep a better eye on that.”

This time when Shiro looks back at Keith, he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Shiro is overcome with the urge to run his thumb over it and tell Keith to stop, tell him that whatever has him so tied up in knots can be fixed, but he doesn’t. Keith will talk on his own time. Shiro will just have to wait.

____________________

Keith is quiet on the way home. That in itself is not remarkable, since Keith is pretty quiet by nature, but this is a different kind of quiet.

Shiro waits until he pulls onto the dirt road leading to Keith’s house to address it.

“Something on your mind?”

Keith’s eyes snap to Shiro’s, then slide away again. “I guess.”

Shiro doesn’t ask Keith to elaborate, but he leaves the opening there, just in case.

Keith takes a deep breath and heaves out a long sigh. It’s another few long moments before he looks Shiro in the eye and asks, “What do you like about him so much?”

It takes longer than it should for Shiro to understand the question. Keith has been so tight-lipped about the subject of the masquerade ball ever since that night. Shiro has been chalking it up to Keith’s general apathy toward romance, but the way Keith looks now, he’s starting to wonder if it’s something different.

Shiro brings the car to a stop in front of Keith’s house and kills the engine. He fiddles with the keys in his hand while he thinks about the answer. In the end, he’s not sure what to say, so instead, he asks, “Why do you want to know?”

Keith sighs again. His eyes fall to his lap. “I’ve just… never heard you talk like this about someone before. And you don’t know his name, or what he looks like, or his background or anything. What if you find out who he is and you’re totally disappointed? What if— what if it’s someone you know, and you’re not interested after all?”

In fairness, Shiro hasn’t actually considered this. He’d _know_ if it was someone he already knew.

Wouldn’t he?

“I don’t think I’ll be disappointed,” he hedges, because he’s not sure he has an answer to the rest of it. “I know it’s hard to understand, and I know it sounds crazy, but Keith, you have to believe me— I _do_ have a connection with this man. I felt it. I can _still_ feel it when I think about the ball, about how it felt to dance with him, hold him close, and—” He cuts himself off and cuts a look at Keith, suddenly not sure if he wants Keith to know they kissed. Somehow it wasn’t such a big deal for Allura or Lotor or Hunk to know, but the thought of telling Keith feels wrong.

Which is ridiculous. Keith is his best friend. He’d be happy for Shiro.

Right?

“Shiro…” Keith looks so troubled. It aches to know that Keith is worrying for him. “I just think, I dunno, maybe you should stop looking.” He doesn’t meet Shiro’s eye as he says it. Shame practically radiates off of him. Shiro’s heart drops into his stomach. “Maybe it was only supposed to be a one-night thing, you know? Like one of those romantic movies you like. An encounter to remember, or whatever.”

Shiro smiles despite himself, if not somewhat ruefully. “Usually the main characters in those movies find love in the end.”

Keith doesn’t reply to that remark. He looks like a kicked puppy, and Shiro can’t be sure how, but he knows it’s his fault.

“Keith…”

The passenger-side door clicks open, and Keith steps out with his head hanging. “See you tomorrow, Shiro.”

Shiro watches Keith trudge to his front door and step inside without looking back.

____________________

Despite his words, Keith does not come to the shop the next day. Or the next day. Or the next.

Shiro tries calling and texting, but Keith’s phone must be off, because his messages go undelivered and his calls go straight to voicemail. It’s not necessarily something to worry over — Keith has let his phone die before when he’s been engrossed in a project or otherwise forgets about the passing of time — but seeing how low Keith was the last time they were together has concern sizzling beneath the surface all the same.

He’s tempted to go over to Keith’s place and see for himself how he’s doing, but Keith’s boundaries are important to him, and if he’s avoiding Shiro for some reason, Shiro can’t force him to let him in. Even if it hurts.

In an attempt to get out of his own head, he spends less time at home. There’s not much he can do about being in the shop all day, but after work he starts spending more time out in town, even on nights when there are no community events to attend. Most of the time, he sits in his and Keith’s favorite coffee shop, totally not hoping to spot Keith when he comes by.

So far, Keith hasn’t come by.

It’s there, in what’s quickly become Shiro’s regular booth, that Lotor finds him.

“Looking worse for wear, Shirogane.”

Shiro puts down the heavily-sugared drink he’s been sipping and glances up to greet his friend.

“Oh, hey.”

Lotor takes it upon himself to join Shiro at his table. He’s empty-handed, which means he must be waiting for his order, but Shiro will take the company, however brief.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“What are you talking about?” Shiro munches grumpily on his buttered croissant. “How can there be trouble in paradise when there’s no paradise?”

Lotor arches one perfect eyebrow at him, utterly unimpressed. “What, you and Keith broke up?”

Shiro is _not_ in the mood.

“You _know_ we’re not together, Lotor. You know I met someone else. Did you just come here to hassle me, or do you actually care?”

“I came to get coffee,” Lotor says in his best bored drawl. “But if those are the only two options, then yes, I do care.” His voice noticeably softens at the end, enough that Shiro looks up to find a genuinely sincere expression. “What’s going on?”

“Where do I start?” Shiro takes another sip of his coffee while he thinks of what to say. “It’s just… I haven’t found him. That guy from the ball. And now Keith thinks I should stop looking. And he’s not talking to me. And I don’t know why.”

Lotor releases a long-suffering sigh, one filled with all of the things he’s refusing to say (or maybe just doesn’t _feel like_ saying), which makes Shiro feel like he’s missing something incredibly obvious.

Or, who knows, maybe Lotor is just bored of other people’s problems. It’s hard to tell.

“You’re a brilliant man, Shiro,” he says at long last. “But for such a brilliant man, you can be truly dense.”

Lotor’s name is called at the coffee counter, and he gets up to leave, but Shiro catches him before he goes. “What does that mean?” he asks, maybe a little desperately. “What am I missing?”

With another sigh and a dramatic eye-roll, Lotor asks, “Did Keith tell you _why_ he wants you to stop looking?”

“He said he’s worried I might be disappointed when I find out who it is.”

One pale eyebrow arches pointedly. “And you don’t find that an odd thing to be upset about?”

Shiro’s hackles rise. “He wants me to be happy.”

“Does he, now.”

“Yes.”

With a wave of his hand as he turns to leave, Lotor leaves him with one last piece of advice: “Then perhaps you should ask him why he’s so sure you’ll be unhappy when you find your answer.”

____________________

Shiro gives him a few more days, just to see if Keith will come out of his cave on his own, but after that, he resolves to take matters into his own hands. They’ve been friends for a long time; Shiro isn’t going to let this relationship dissolve just like that. He’s broken through Keith’s stubbornness before, and he’ll do it again.

He closes the shop at the end of the day and arms himself with Keith’s favorite things: a box of Hot Tamales, a takeout bag containing the greasiest double bacon cheeseburger available, and an adorable stuffed hippo that Shiro absolutely could not resist in the leftover Valentine’s Day candy aisle.

He allows himself just a moment to steel himself when he arrives on Keith’s doorstep, then knocks.

“Keith. Open up, please.”

There’s no answer, so he waits. After a few moments, he knocks again.

“Please let me in. I need to talk to you.”

Nothing. Not so much as the shuffling of feet.

“Keith, please,” he calls, a little more softly, a little less sure of himself with every passing minute that Keith lets him stand outside. “Your burger’s getting cold.”

He thinks he hears a rustling of some sort, then, but the sound stops, and once again, no one answers.

He won’t give up. He _won’t_. But it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t hurt to be shut out. Quietly, more to himself than in a true attempt to get Keith’s attention, he says, “I miss you.”

Just as he’s getting ready to settle down on the steps and mournfully eat the greasy monstrosity himself, he hears the lock jiggle, and a few hesitant seconds later, the door creaks open.

Keith is there, standing in the doorway with a blanket wrapped over his head and around his body like a burrito. Objectively, he looks like a grumpy cat peeking its head out from under the furniture. Subjectively, it’s adorable.

“You said something about a burger?”

His voice his rough and gravelly, even more so than usual, and Shiro’s heart thuds. He holds up the bag like an offering, and he relishes the moment he sees Keith’s eyes move from the bag to the stuffed hippo under Shiro’s arm. His whole being softens, his eyebrows arching together as he returns his gaze to Shiro, asking without actually asking. Shiro offers the hippo to him, and an arm sneaks out from his blanket tortilla and takes it. Keith looks at it for a moment, then hugs it to his chest and accepts all of its comforts.

Peace offering successfully acquired, Keith steps aside to let Shiro in. Shiro doesn’t waste a second, lest Keith change his mind and kick him to the curb, though with the way he’s hugging his new hippo, Shiro doesn’t think that’s terribly likely to happen.

“Sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” Keith says, though it sounds like he’s forcefully dragging the words out.

Shiro watches him settle himself on his couch, which must be where he was sitting before he got up to answer the door, judging by the butt-shaped indent in one of the cushions. He doesn’t want to startle Keith or make him freeze up by jumping right into the tough questions, so he starts with, “Is everything okay?”

Keith shrugs. He gingerly sets his hippo to the side, making sure it’s nice and situated, before shrugging off his blanket. “I guess. I dunno.” Hands free, he reaches for the bag still in Shiro’s grip. “Burger?” Shiro gladly hands it over.

Keith is not an elegant eater. He eats like every meal might be his last, and though that makes him incredibly easy to please, it’s also difficult to watch, for more reasons than one.

Still, Shiro waits until Keith comes up for air before giving him a questioning look. Keith swallows and makes to wipe his hands on his blanket, but Shiro reaches out and stops him before he can. He gives him his best stern expression, making it clear that Keith should do no such thing, and gets up to grab him a wad of paper towels instead.

“Thanks.” Keith doesn’t meet Shiro’s eye when he says, “I’ve been thinking about some things. Just needed some time alone to get my head right.”

Shiro nods. “And what did you come up with?” Frustratingly but predictably, Keith doesn’t answer right away.

Shiro takes the time within the silence to look around Keith’s place. It’s messier than usual; Keith may be a bit of a mess sometimes, but he typically keeps his place pretty tidy. Right now, there’s a full trash bag that needs to be taken out, a pile of dishes in the sink, and food crumbs on the coffee table.

The smallest flash of red in his periphery brings Shiro up short. He has to squint to tell what it is. It looks sort of like a flower, but there’s no telling what kind from this angle, and it’s not like Keith to keep flowers around— he’s solidly a succulent guy who makes the occasional exception for Shiro’s arrangements.

Beside him, Keith releases a resigned breath and fidgets with his fingers. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And you think I’ll be unhappy if I keep looking,” Shiro clarifies for the sake of continuing the conversation.

Keith nods.

“Is that because you think I won’t find him, or because you think I will?”

Keith doesn’t answer that right away, either, and something about the way his shoulders hunch and the skin on his neck turns blotchy like it does when Keith’s upset makes the gears in Shiro’s brain start to turn.

He stands under the pretense of cleaning up a little (which he’s happy to do anyway) and maneuvers himself toward the red flower as he works. Closer up, he can see that it’s long dead— the petals are discolored and falling out, the stem is pale, and if Shiro were to touch it, he’s sure it would break apart.

Even so, he’d know this flower anywhere.

Suddenly, things begin to fall into place.

He thinks about their last conversation, when Keith had worried over Shiro not knowing what his mystery date looked like or what he might be like. _“What if you find out who he is and you’re totally disappointed?”_

Hurt surges through him at the thought of Keith seeing himself that way. _“What if he’s totally ugly?”_ It makes him want to grab Keith by the shoulders and tell him that he’s the exact _opposite_ of a disappointment.

He thinks about Lotor’s remark— _“Then perhaps you should ask him why he’s so sure you’ll be unhappy when you find your answer.”_

It’s horrible, and it twists his insides that Keith could _ever_ think Shiro would be anything but ecstatic to be with him, but at the same time, Shiro can’t stop the way his pulse starts to race, the way his heart pounds in his chest, bursting with something dangerously like hope. It’s been stuffed deep down in himself for such a long time, but now that there’s a chance that Keith might feel something for him, Shiro can’t stop it from bubbling up.

Then he remembers: “ _Maybe it was only supposed to be a one-night thing_.”

And that’s… That’s enough to plant a seed of doubt, which creeps up even faster than hope.

Maybe Keith was just being a good friend when he showed up at the ball. Maybe he just wanted to make sure Shiro had a good time. He’d tried to leave after the first dance, after all— Shiro is the one who’d kept him all night.

Maybe the reason he doesn’t want Shiro to know it was him is because he doesn’t want to have to let him down easy.

“Shiro?”

Keith’s voice breaks him out of his panic. Keith is looking at him with concerned eyes, which is probably warranted— Shiro has no idea what his face has been doing this whole time.

“You okay? I’ve been trying to talk to you.”

Shiro does his best to shake himself out of his spiral. His head is spinning from the whirlwind of emotions, and he’s not sure what to do.

He doesn’t realize he’s gone back to openly staring at the camellia until Keith sucks in a sharp breath. The concern is gone from his expression, replaced with wild-eyed panic.

“Keith, I need to ask you something.”

Keith tries and fails to suppress a wince; he must have some idea of what’s coming. “Okay,” he says anyway, because Keith may run away every once in a while, but he always faces his problems eventually.

Shiro takes a deep, steadying breath. It’s now or never, and Shiro _needs_ to know the answer, or he’ll never move on.

“Why do you want me to stop looking for the man from the masquerade ball?”

Keith shakes his head. He looks like he’s doing his best to collapse within himself and poof out of existence. “You know why.”

“I don’t,” Shiro prods. He tries to keep his voice gentle, but there’s no small amount of panic on his end, either.

“Shiro.” Keith’s eyes are beseeching.

“You’re not a disappointment, Keith. Never.”

“Shiro, don’t. You don’t have to—”

“Did you think I would be disappointed to know I spent one of the best nights of my life with you?”

Keith doesn’t respond, just shrinks further into himself, but that’s all the answer Shiro needs.

“ _Never_ , Keith. I don’t regret a single minute I spend with you.” He takes a step toward Keith and takes it as a good sign that Keith doesn’t back away. “But… why did you do it?” He risks another step and is rewarded with a close-up view of Keith’s gorgeous eyes.

Of course. He had recognized those eyes that night, but he’d failed to make the connection. He feels like an idiot. He should have recognized Keith, out of anyone in the world. But at the time, the possibility had just been so impossible…

“Please,” Shiro whispers, close enough now to reach out and take Keith’s hand. “Why, Keith?”

“Because you deserve everything you’ve ever wanted,” Keith says in a small voice. “You were so excited. I just wanted to make you happy.”

“You _do_ make me happy.”

“You know what I mean,” Keith huffs. He’s relaxing bit by bit, but he’s still a flight risk. Shiro takes his other hand and pulls him the rest of the distance between them, so that Keith has to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact.

“Every day, Keith. You’re the best person in my life.”

He dares to reach up and brush Keith’s messy bangs from his eyes.

“You too, Shiro.” The admission is soft and sweet and makes Shiro’s heart ache. “I’m sorry I’m not who you were looking for.”

Shiro thinks about the things Keith asked him about the mystery man, so focused on _why_ and what Shiro saw in him. The doubt that sprouted starts to shrivel. Does Keith really not realize how amazing he is? Does he really think Shiro could ever want anyone else if having Keith is an option?

He fiddles nervously with Keith’s hair. It’s a leap, but Shiro has been known to take those from time to time.

“I’m not,” he says. Keith looks so unsure what to make of it, and Shiro knows he has to be the one to cross the final line. “If it was a choice between you and anyone else in the world, I’d pick you every time.”

“But—” Keith stops, still puzzled, still doubting Shiro’s meaning. “You said you wanted to find love,” he says helplessly. “You’re not… You don’t want _me_.”

Shiro sighs, fond but exasperated. “Who told you that?”

Keith blinks. “Well, no one, I guess, but—”

“But nothing. You’re my best friend, Keith. The person I want to spend all of my time with. And you’re sweet, and stubborn, and fun, and frustrating, and weird, and brilliant, and absolutely beautiful.”

He watches Keith swallow whatever words he doesn’t say. He’s clearly fighting with himself, against that thing inside him that thinks he’s not good enough for Shiro, and Shiro can’t stand it. He leans down to press his forehead against Keith’s and waits. And waits. And when he can’t wait anymore, he asks, “Keith, do you want to be with me?”

And Keith, though his hands are shaking and his breathing is unsteady, nods his head and finally, _finally_ leans up to close the distance between them.

Shiro meets him halfway, taking Keith’s face in his hands and holding him close, and kisses him the way he’s never let himself imagine. He’s felt for weeks that the kiss at the ball had been life-changing, and now he knows he was right. Everything about it was perfect. Every moment he spent with his masked stranger had been passionate, fierce, romantic, poetic— any sappy word he could think of, and so quintessentially Keith. He kisses him now and he feels the rest of his life slot into place, because now that he has this, he’ll never want it with anyone else ever again.

When they pull apart, Shiro doesn’t go far. He can still feel the tingling brush of Keith’s lips against his when he asks, “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” Keith says. “It’s always been you for me.”

Shiro’s heart soars, and now that he knows he can kiss Keith, he sees no reason why he shouldn’t. He pulls him in close and lets himself feel everything he’s repressed for so many years.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses. “I’ve always loved you.”

And Keith doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to; Shiro feels it in every press of his lips, every swipe of his tongue— in the way Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck and holds him tight.

It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

It’s unexpected, also in the best way.

And isn’t that what Shiro has always loved so much about Keith?

Now, he realizes as joy radiates throughout him, now he can tell Keith _exactly_ what he loves about his mystery man, every single day, for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> LATER:
> 
> Lotor: He was literally just wearing a mask, Shiro. Are you saying you don't recognize your boyfriend with his back turned?  
> Shiro: It was unexpected, _okay?_ He said he wasn't coming and then he didn't even speak to me—  
> Lotor: He's the only person you know with purple eyes.  
> Shiro: It could have been someone new!  
> Lotor:  
> Shiro:  
> Lotor:  
> Shiro: It's fine, okay? It's perfectly understandable that I wouldn't figure it out—  
> Lotor: Everybody but you figured it out almost immediately.  
> Shiro: ...  
> Shiro: *pouting* I'm going to find Keith.


End file.
